Twin Of The Dead
by Mackledberries
Summary: First fic, feedback appreciated. When Sherri is suddenly killed in an accident, Terri can't cope without her, but in bringing back her twin she sets off a chain of events that puts her sisterly bond to the ultimate test.
1. 1: Waking the dead

**Twin of the dead**

Some fanfic by Abonnybunny/LegendaryEsquilax

**Ch.1**

The news around town never covered much more than who died and how, or what fresh new hell was unleashed upon the country. All of it happened outside her bubble, always people she never knew. Even her Grandma and Great Aunt were alive and spry as ever. Death rarely crossed her mind for more than a second…

Terri Mackleberry, along with her sister, Sherri, hadn't been up to anything special that day. Their jump ropes were being repaired and they were bored of all their games so they took a walk to pass the time. It all happened so fast, it was unreal. A car came speeding onto the pavement, the most she caught was a licence plate that started with an "FR".

Before she could process anything, Terri was standing alone, her usual lavender traded for black. She viewed the dispassionate eulogy of a bored reverend through a veil. It was such a bright, warm day. Somehow, that only made her feel worse.

Once the services were over, she stood rooted to the spot in front of the hole, which had yet to be filled in. Her hair and veil fluttered ever so slightly in the breeze. Even as numb as she felt, she was still sobbing. She was always a crybaby, her dad would say.

"Terri..."

Without even lifting her head she looked to her right. Lisa stood right next to her, gazing down at the coffin. Terri moved a few steps to the left.

Without waiting for a response Lisa sighed. "I… I don't know what to say… I'm so sorry."

Terri grunted, she didn't buy the apology for a second. Maybe she and Sherri said a few not-so-nice things but it wasn't like Lisa was great to them either. Sherri never forgot that one week of constant humiliation from Nelson thanks to Lisa.

Yet she held her tongue for the same reasons she left quietly when her mom beckoned. There was a time and place for causing a scene, and that moment wasn't either.

Over the next two weeks, Terri was offered hollow condolences from the kids around her. The same people who would judge the twins through a fake smile, call her "Tubbi" or gleefully partook in chanting the modern playground favourite, "Sherri smells, Terri smells". They had the cheek to think they had any right being friendly all of a sudden.

Eventually, she stopped going outside altogether aside from school. Without her sister backing her up, she had no courage to talk to anyone, even if to give them a well-deserved telling off. Her days were spent buried in a pillow, leaving only enough room to breathe. She couldn't stop thinking it would have been better if she had died instead… or preferably neither but Sherri had the best shot at a future alone.

Then a few days afterwards, she saw it.

"Nerdonomicon: _The book of the probably not alive_".

Terri had decided to walk home that day. Predictably, she had gotten lost. Not because she didn't know her way around but it was hard to navigate properly while gazing at the floor. The book caught her eye as she half-heartedly looked around to regain her bearings.

It was an otherwise nondescript book, in a run-down store managed by a witch. Not the sort that had pointy hats and buckled shoes but the ones that try to curse people over the internet with emojis and reeked of cat pee. On the same night she had it with her at the cemetery, the creepy leathery tome in one hand, a shovel in the other.

If any other person knew what she was up to, they would have thought she was insane. Terri would argue that's because they're stupid and uncaring. And then kick them in the shins for good measure.

Her sister's tomb took some time to find. It wasn't a decorative grave, nor was it by a tree or atop a hill or any other supposedly symbolic place. It must have taken at least twenty minutes to find, though that was only a guess. The night was bitter cold and her ankles were starting to ache but it didn't matter.

"Um, hey sis," Terri murmured, "I'm… um..." Not that Sherri could hear but it was hard to find the right words. She plonked down and stared right ahead at a plain name plate on a rectangular piece of rock. With her eyes cleared, she could make out that they didn't even spell her name right.

_It was Sherri with an "I", not "Y", idiots!_

"I'm gonna help you, okay? I-I really need you back. With me," she said as she started to glance away. "I can't survive on my own."

There wasn't any turning back, well actually there was. There were plenty of ways to turn back. In fact, she could literally turn back but her self-doubt was wasting its non existent breath. The shovel made a dull 'thunk' as Terri put her weight onto the head. Neglecting to take any breaks, she unearthed her sibling in no less than an hour.

It was fairly obvious why Sherri had a closed-casket funeral. Having blacked out after the incident, this was the first time she saw Sherri since she was alive. And yet, looking at her sister's mangled corpse only gave her a feeling of determination. She placed her hand on Sherri's forehead. It was cold and felt slightly moldy so she reflexively pulled back for a moment. Once she found the page she was looking for, Terri abandoned her sense of disgust and put her hand back.

"Sseug... I won nos...rep," Terri read out, "S-sheesh, is all of it complete babble? Sseug I won nosrep daednu ekam. Skcub evif!" It might have been some explicable force or just her expertise in twinglish shining through but the spell was starting to come to her naturally. "Em ewo llits uoy mada-"

"SHUT UP, YOU!" Terri froze at the sudden yet oddly familiar shouting. "Yer'll wake tha' dead shoutin' like tha'!"

Behind her stood a man not unlike Groundskeeper Willie, albeit with white hair and what looked like a glass eye. He firmly clutched his own shovel, all but wringing it in Scottish rage.

"B-but that's what I'm trying to do!" she squeaked, backing up and ready to make a break for it.

"Ach, well, dinnae mind me wee lassie, carry on..."

The creepy gravedigger stared for a few seconds, then turned and left. Terri could finally relax. Having lost her place in a panic, she crawled back over to her sister and found the right page again. The ground felt much colder on her knees.

"Okay, okay, from the top… _Sseug I won nosrep daednu ekam. Skcub evif em ewo llits uoy mada. Ffuts siht ta trepxe on mi ylsuoires. Tnahc doog a fo kniht tndluoc!_"

There was no great thunderclap, which suited her just fine. Only a heavy silence loomed over her as she froze with her hand raised in a dramatic claw.

…

Nothing. Nothing happened. As Terri lowered her hand, her hopes sank, and then tumbled off a cliff like Bart's dad.

"... I'm sorry, sis… I thought… Oh god, what am I even doing!?" It didn't take another second for grief to punch her in the heart again leading to an explosion of inelegant blubbering. "I just desecrated your grave for nothing, I'm sorry!"

Sherri's body felt a hundred times heavier than before, as if she was putting up resistance to being moved. In fact, it felt too much like she was resisting. Terri grabbed at her sister's arm and moved her hand away.

Sherri moved her own arm back on her chest.

"Huh? Sherri?" Terri squeaked, "Hello? Helloooo!" No response. Yet her chest was slightly rising and lowering, but Terri couldn't be too sure. It could have been wishful thinking on her part. Upon using the scientific method, poking with a stick, she could finally confirm it, Sherri was alive! Checking her pulse might have helped affirm that too.

"Sherri!" Terri cried out, hopping from foot to foot, "you had me so worried! You weren't moving and I thought- nevermind, I guess dying just took it out of you, huh?"

Gently, Terri pulled Sherri over her shoulder. Perhaps it was her but Sherri's body looked a lot more… physically possible, all the joints in the right places and everything. Terri tried to ignore her sister's icky, clammy skin and she smelled none too pleasant either.

"Okay, I think you need a bath, smelly!"


	2. 2: Sherri comes home

**Ch.2**

Nobody saw Terri on her way back, at least she didn't think so. Someone would have remarked on her merrily lugging a corpse around. In spite of a weight far too great for her to carry under normal circumstances, Terri managed to drag her sister all the way home. She didn't even complain for a change. She was in a good mood, after all.

Setting Sherri down at the foot of their McMansion of a home, she got the door unlocked to her relief. Obviously her dad never noticed her leave the house. If he had, he might have stuck his keys in the door so she couldn't get back in, like the one time she and Sherri had come home too late. It was just good parenting, making they wouldn't grow up like those other girls who would do drugs and get pregnant at fifteen.

Naturally, he was still the biggest obstacle to Terri's plans. The dummy-heads at school would buy that it was some kind of third sibling or a prank for the internet. She couldn't pull the wool over her dad's eyes like that. And as a man who made it a point to be a good Christian (especially when it excused his strictness) he wouldn't be thrilled about his youngest dabbling in the dark arts, even if it meant getting the other daughter back.

For the time being, there was one room he never bothered with, the basement. There wasn't an awful lot in there, anything important was on the ground floor. It was set aside as a guest room, or where the sisters would be banished to if they displeased him. In a sense, it was a perfect place to hide Sherri for a little while.

Once she had gently carried Sherri down the stairs, Terri set her on the bed.

"Just stay there for a while, okay Sherri?" Terri whispered, "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you!"

Sherri was clammy, moldy and a little unsettling right now, so she chose to forego her usual hug in favour of making a heart sign with her hands.

Terri rolled out of bed with a groan. On impulse, she slapped her Happy Little Elves alarm clock even though it wasn't even on. Everything looked so normal, at least the post-Sherri normal. She wouldn't forget what happened that night yet it felt like a dream. She stumbled her way back to the basement door.

Her dad was parked in front of the TV. It wasn't something he used a lot, some old person nonsense about rotting your brain. He was fixated on the screen, waiting for something to come on. Yet when she reached for the handle...

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I-I um, I wanted to check out the basement!" she lied. His brow furrowed, that silent demand for an explanation. Defeated, Terri had to admit the truth, "I was hoping to move rooms. Down there. Please?"

"Terri," he muttered with a frustrated sigh, "you can't just take other peoples' rooms like that, we've reserved it for guests, you can't have everything."

"I know," Terri started to fidget as she gazed down at the floor. "I can't stay in my room either. How can I move on when everything there makes me think of her..?"

Miraculously, it took her dad's attitude down a peg. A man like him would never concede a point but this time there wasn't any arguing against her nor was he in any state to anymore.

"Alright. If you think it will help, you can stay in the guest room for a while…"

"Thanks dad…"

…

"So go on," he said, "take a look, see what you want moved down there."

"Can I leave my old room the way it is? Just until I'm ready."

"I suppose, if you think that will help."

Both of them froze when they heard the news broadcast.

"... And in other news, local playboy and mayor's son, Freddy Quimby, has been acquitted of vehicular manslaughter…"

Terri had seen her dad get angry before, sometimes at her or Sherri—but it was never anything like this. "Are you kidding me!?" He screamed as loud enough to make her ears ring. The sheer strength at which his fists were clenched looked like it hurt, they were trembling.

Freddy? FR? No…

"... was declared not guilty when the defense managed to prove the victim had intentionally jumped in the way of his vehicle"

"Well you know, chicks are crazy," Freddy asserted confidently, "everyone wants a piece of us Quimbys. Ain't the first time they tried to get us sued like this!"

With that, her dad stomped over and gripped the top of the TV with a hateful growl. For a moment, it looked like he was about to yank it out of the socket and smash it on the ground. However, his senses returned and with a defeated sag, he turned it off instead.

"Take it from me," he muttered to Terri, "there's no justice in the world, least of all for us."

Terri had so desperately wanted to tell him what she had done, what she had planned, maybe in the vain hope it would cheer him up. It was hard to watch him slump back in his chair, eyes covered. He was trying not to cry but it was a losing battle.

The basement door creaked open in a most typical manner. She was going to have to get used to that. This was her room now, and as she made her slow descent into the abyss, everything was how she left it the previous night, except for Sherri, she had moved.

Terri found her huddled, timidly peeking out in the direction of the sounds. It looked like she was sitting at first, her limbs tucked in, legs folded. Yet she was actually doing some kind of squat. Terri knew she and Sherri had some odd mannerisms and quirks but that squat was entirely new to her. Almost as if she was ready to pounce at any moment.

"Hey Sherri," Terri whispered. Sherri fixed her gaze upon her still living sister. She didn't say anything or do anything aside from stare that vacant stare.

"Helloooo!" Still nothing.

"This isn't funny, Earth to Sherri!" Terri almost raised her voice. Without any other options she started to prod Sherri instead. Sherri only made a whiny grunt and batted Terri's hand away.

How odd. Did she have amnesia? It sounded trite but Sherri had died. Perhaps this was a side-effect? It would have annoyed Terri greatly but the fact was, an amnesiac Sherri was better than no Sherri at all. It just meant putting a bit of work into truly having her twin back. At least five of her dad's spiels about hard work played back in her head.

She tried to give her sister a reassuring pat. She had to stop though, it started to shake some of her hairs loose. They fell to the ground in little clumps as if she had just had her hair cut. Sherri didn't freak out, however. If anything, she made what almost sounded like a coo, perhaps she appreciated the gesture? But she wouldn't be happy to be bald.

For the next few hours Terri hung out with Sherri. Not chatting like they used to, instead Sherri stayed in her little squatting corner. Occasionally she would show interest if Terri moved something around or got up.

Sometimes she would make a peculiar cry. It sounded like some sort of croaking squeal and Terri had no idea what that meant.


	3. 3: It hits the fan

**Ch.3**

A few days had passed since Sherri had first made that odd noise and she hadn't stopped. If anything she was getting louder.

On more than one occasion, Terri had to pretend it was her making the horrible sound. She was sure her dad thought she was going crazy, though at least he was at work today. Terri was meant to be at school herself but she hadn't left the house since Sherri was dragged back to the world of the living. Terri hadn't been counting but she could swear that Sherri just broke the world record for the longest time spent squatting in place.

Far from how movies made them seem, zombies weren't very scary, or even interesting. Sherri was completely passive, only occasionally staring at Terri. She had no interest in playing games or even watching anything else in the room, she only had the mildest interest in Terri.

Usually, it wouldn't have bothered Terri too much—she was used to spending time with her sister in silence. Being able to do nothing together and not get bored was one of the most rewarding parts of having a bond like theirs.

There was no familiar spark between them this time, however.

The tension (or was it tedium?) of watching over an undead sibling was shattered by a sudden noise that made Terri jump. When it happened again, she realized it was just the doorbell. After a third time, she decided to go and answer it. It would have been more suspicious if she hadn't and it wasn't like Sherri was going to suddenly spring to life in the next minute or so. Though she certainly hoped that could happen.

"Oh… Hello," Terri groaned. She couldn't pretend to be anything but disheartened when she saw who was at the door. Before all of this, she used to be so good at pretending.

"Oh, hi… Uh," Milhouse started, then muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'Erri' as he fumbled with a stack of papers. He didn't seem to notice the few that dropped. "Mr Flanders told me to deliver this stuff. It's homework, y'know, since you've been a truant this week."

"So what are _you_ doing out of school?" Terri shot back. It was only midday at the latest.

"Well, our class went to the zoo and they excused me 'cos I'm allergic to lions, zebras, monkeys, mascots, crocodiles and public bathrooms," he stated with a bizarre pride, "So… What are you doin'?"

_Oh my god, he's making small talk… And he's doing that thing with his eyebrows! Ewww!_

Terri wasn't the only one displeased with Milhouse's intrusion on her life. Sherri didn't keep it to herself nearly as well—possibly a side effect of being undead. A hideous _shriek_ tore through the air and Terri nearly hit the roof. If Milhouse had been standing under one he would have been clinging to it.

"W-what was that!?" Milhouse asked, with his typical bravery.

"Um, my tummy? I'm really hungry," Terri lied, giving her stomach a little pat with both hands.

Even Milhouse didn't buy that.

"It sounds like a scary movie! You've been watching Boobarella's Screamathon this whole time haven't you?" Milhouse asked, with his arms folded indignantly. His squint might have been piercing if his eyes weren't already ridiculously beady.

"Seriously? I hate those movies you-" Another shriek cut her off and stopped both their hearts in perfect sync.

"Yeah! Yeah, that's from Space Mutants Thirteen, the Next Generation's Revenge!" Milhouse proclaimed, marching to the door in that self-satisfied way he did when anything went his way. "Just wait until Mr Flanders hears about this!"

"Hey! No, don't go in there!" Terri yelled, gripping his arm just as he yanked the door open. Milhouse was a weakling yet Terri was hardly Heracles herself, being smaller than most of her class. "Why… don't you… get lost… you _creep_!"

Unfortunately for her, she couldn't hold him back any longer and unfortunately for him, the sudden change in force sent him tumbling down the stairs.

"Milhouse!" she cried out, only getting a groan in response. With the lights off it was too dark to see down there, it was as if Milhouse had vanished into the void. "Um, are you okay?" Remembering what happened to the last girl who showed sympathy to his injuries, she added "I still think you're a creep, by the way!"

There was no answer this time, but there was a different sound, a series of slaps that were getting slightly louder with every step. It couldn't have been Milhouse—If she remembered correctly, he was wearing shoes.

And then there was nothing.

"Huh..?" Milhouse uttered, still disoriented from his rough descent, "what's the big idea, Terri?" she was confused for a moment. He clearly wasn't calling up to her, yet...

_Oh no!_

All of a sudden there was a sickening _crunch_ and a choking gasp that sent Terri almost falling over backwards in shock. And then another crunch, and another, and another. Terri cringed harder with each crunch, practically scrunching into a ball by the time it stopped. After she broke out of her shock she rushed down to the basement.

There was barely any signs of Milhouse any more. Half a pair of shattered glasses, an inhaler and a few scraps of clothing were all that was left. And over it stood Sherri, staring down at the evidence.

_Oh no, no no no no NO NO NO NO!_

"Sherri!" Terri screamed, backing against the stair rail, "_W-what was that for?_"

This wasn't supposed to happen! Nothing like it! She had only wanted to fix one of God's mistakes! Terri might not have directly killed Milhouse nor had any intent to but it still felt like murder to her.

Terri should have been running for the hills. Or trying to find that rifle her dad often claimed to have somewhere, or getting something heavy—or _anything_.

She didn't, though.

Terri couldn't put her finger on it but something instinctive told her she wasn't in any danger. After all, Sherri never attacked her, even with all the opportunity in her short undeath so far. It couldn't have been pickiness, was she even capable of that? And even if she was, Sherri would have ignored Milhouse too.

Perhaps on some level, there was still some hint of the sister she loved so dearly?

Sherri was starting to hum a jarringly gentle melody. Listening to it and watching Sherri—who now seemed utterly content—brought Terri's hysteria down by a speck. A few deep breaths later and she could think straight again.

"Seriously, what was that for?" Terri asked again, holding her sister's chin and lifting her head, glaring into her eyes.

There was something different about Sherri. It wasn't her discoloured skin, nor her stringy hair or glassy stare. Maybe the situation was getting to Terri. Sherri turned to avoid her gaze.

She let Sherri go, who made some sort of hoarse grunt as she turned and awkwardly shuffled back to her corner. Flicking the lights on, Terri watched her undead cannibal of a sister. The zombie twin paused, then instead of squatting, she sat down shifting around a little—as if trying to get comfortable—before she closed her eyes.

Something about that stood out to Terri. Nothing about her behaviour was normal by any stretch of the imagination, and yet the way she was acting still felt odd. Perhaps in a bid to distract herself she was forming thoughts and ideas. Those would have to wait until her sister started making those noises again.


End file.
